Wild Jasmine (43 page)

She was so lost in thought that she did not hear the door to her bedchamber open. She started at the sound of her grandmother’s voice, turning about to face Skye, her cheeks pink with a guilty blush.

“Adali tells me you rushed into your rooms as if you were pursued by the seven evil jinns,” Skye said, noting the blush but not remarking upon it. Walking to the window, she looked down into her gardens where the Marquess of Westleigh strolled alone now.

“Adali worries too much,” Jasmine replied shortly. “He is worse than half a dozen old women.” Her eyes strayed back out the window.

“Did you show Tom Ashburne and his cousin the gardens, my darling?” she asked her granddaughter.

“The earl preferred to remain by the fire,” Jasmine said.

“And Lord Lindley?” Skye gently probed.

Jasmine turned suddenly and looked directly at her grandmother. “He is an incredibly bold man,” she said. “He says he wants me for his wife! He touched my face with his hand! In India a man would have been executed for taking
such
a liberty with any woman of good breeding.”

“Ahhhh,” Skye said, her eyes a-twinkle. “I see.”

“What do you see?” Jasmine demanded nervously, unconsciously worrying the lace edging of her fine lawn handkerchief.

“That you are attracted to this man,” Skye answered. “He is quite handsome, my darling. Tell me exactly what he said.”

“He said that he would have me,” Jasmine began, “and when I asked
what
he would have of me, he laughed and replied, ‘I mean to have you for my wife.’ I told him I had no wish to remarry at this time, and he said that he would wait! Grandmama! What am I to do?”

Skye laughed merrily. Then she said, “Why, my darling, you are to go on living your life exactly as you wish to live it. You do not have to marry anyone until you choose to remarry.”

“I am not ready yet,” Jasmine told her.

Skye patted the young woman’s hand. “I will ask Tom Ashburne about his cousin. I find it odd he has no wife. I wonder what his age is? He and Tom are obviously close,” she mused.

“He is five years the earl’s junior and was raised with him from age six,” Jasmine told her grandmother. “His father and the earl’s mother were brother and sister. His parents had died.”

“Hmmmmmm,” Skye said. “Tom is a year older than Padraic. That would make him thirty-eight now. The Marquess of Westleigh is therefore thirty-three years of age. It is a good age for a man.” Skye gave her granddaughter a hug. “Go and bid your mama a happy May morn. Sybilla has been with her long enough, and ’tis time she got used to the idea that she has a sister.”

Lady de Marisco left Jasmine’s rooms and descended to the hall, where she found her husband already deep in conversation with the Marquess of Westleigh. Tom Ashburne dozed by the fire, obviously quite content. Skye gave him a sharp poke with a finger. “Wake up, you rogue!” she said. “I want to talk with you.”

His misty gray eyes opened, regarded her lazily. Then he stretched his large frame. “Here?”

“No, outdoors in the gardens where we cannot be overheard,” she told him, and took the arm he offered as he stood.

When they were well away from the house, Skye said, “Tell me about Westleigh. He has made advances toward my granddaughter. What are his circumstances? Is he a fortune hunter?”

“God’s foot, no, dear madame!” the Earl of Kempe said vehemently.

“Your mother and his father were siblings, I am told.”

“Aye. Rowan was orphaned young. My father was his guardian until he was twenty-one.”

“You have no wife, Tom, and your cousin has no wife. I understand your circumstances. Tell me of Rowan Lindley’s,” she asked.

“My parents treated Rowan no differently than they treated the rest of us,” the earl began. “By the time Rowan reached his majority, he was like all young men. Eager to throw off the parental shackles he thought were binding him. My father had made no match for him. He, like you, dear madame, was a great romantic. He had fallen in love with my mother and he wanted that privilege for all his children.

“At twenty-one my cousin returned to his own home, which is called Cadby. Within several months’ time he had made a match with the heiress of an adjoining property. He had seen the girl out riding and found her attractive. Like him, she had been orphaned from an early age. Her guardian, however, was a bachelor uncle. The girl seemed neither enthusiastic nor un-enthusiastic about Rowan. My parents were worried, but nothing could dissuade Rowan from the path he had chosen. He is a very stubborn man, Madame Skye.

“The wedding was celebrated, but when my cousin entered his bride’s bedchamber on their wedding night, he found it empty. Seeing the windows wide open, he went to close them, only to discover that his new wife had thrown herself out those windows. He could see her lying in a crumpled heap below. Sadly, she was still alive, but she was totally incapable of moving her lower limbs and never did so again. She lived on for eleven years, but in all that time she never spoke a word to anyone.

“A little over a year ago Rowan’s wife contracted a lung fever. It was obvious that she was dying. As he sat by her bedside giving her what comfort he could, she spoke to him, to his great amazement. She had not wanted to marry anyone, for she was afraid and ashamed of what a husband would think when he found her not a virgin. Her guardian, you see, had robbed her of her maidenhead when she was but eleven, and not satisfied with that, had continued to force her. In another time she might have entered a convent to escape her fate.”

“Poor girl,” Skye said with genuine feeling. Then she asked him, “How did her guardian dare to believe that a husband would not realize the girl was not a virgin?”

“The man was obviously a terrible blackguard. He told his
niece that, once married, her husband would not dare to admit to her imperfection for fear of embarrassment. And if she told Rowan of her uncle’s behavior toward her, the uncle said he would disclaim the girl’s accusations and shame her publicly. He told his niece that there were no witnesses to his lust, for indeed he had been very careful. The girl knew it to be the truth, but she was an extremely ethical little thing. She had fallen in love with Rowan and would not cheat him. So she chose to kill herself instead.”

“What happened to the uncle?” Skye asked.

“When he heard of his niece’s attempted suicide, he decided to flee England, realizing that Rowan would believe whatever his wife told him under those tragic circumstances. He fueled his flight with the girl’s fortune, leaving only her land for Rowan. Rowan never told her this, even as she lay dying. He did not feel that she should believe herself under any obligation to him. The uncle never knew that the girl spoke not a word against him until her dying day.”

“And your cousin loved and supported her despite everything,” Skye said. “I am pleased to hear he is that sort of a man, Tom Ashburne.”

“I do not know if Rowan really loved his wife, Madame Skye. If he did, it was not a deep love; but aye, he is a kind man.”

“What else is he, my lord?” She fixed him with a sharp look.

The Earl of Kempe laughed. “You love this newly found granddaughter of yours very much, I can see, madame.”

“Why Tom,” she told him frankly, “I love them all! My children, and grandchildren, my whole family! Now tell me more of your cousin, the Marquess of Westleigh. He has greatly disturbed Jasmine.”

“He is stubborn, as I have said, but a good man.”

“Has he wealth of his own?”

“Aye, and strives to increase that wealth. He went out to India several years ago and returned to invest in the East India Company,” the earl said.

“Which Church?” she demanded.

“The Anglican Church,” came the answer.

“Good!” Skye said. “He is no fanatic, thank God! Does he follow the court? And what of women? Do not tell me he led a monastic life all those years of his unfortunate marriage. I
will not believe you, Tom Ashburne, if you do. Tell me of his women.”

“He goes to court to amuse himself, as we all do,” the earl told her. “As for women, yes, he has them, but he is discreet. No lady has ever captured his heart to my knowledge, or even become important in his life. When he first saw your granddaughter this morning, however, he was immediately taken with her.” He chuckled. “I find it most annoying that my cousin can find a lady to woo amongst your female relations, Madame Skye, while I am once more left languishing by the wayside.” He sighed dramatically. “Unless, of course, you would like to put in a good word for me with Mistress Sybilla.”

“You are too old for Sybilla,” Skye said.

“Nonsense,” he told her. “A spirited girl needs an older husband to keep her in check. I think her absolutely adorable with her golden curls and pouting mouth.”

“She has set her heart upon the Earl of Glenkirk, although I know not the man,” Skye warned him. “Why is it, Tom Ashburne, that you always seek the impossible when dealing with women? I think you do it deliberately. Disappointment gains you far more attention and keeps you a wicked bachelor, you naughty rogue!” She teasingly tweaked his elegantly barbered moustache.

The Earl of Kempe caught her hand and kissed it. His eyes looked deep into hers. “A lady of your years, dear Madame Skye, should really not be so damned attractive,” he told her.

Skye laughed aloud. It was a joyous sound. “It is rare that I long for my youth, Tom Ashburne, but with you I almost do!”

“Only almost?” he said, sounding quite disappointed.

“Almost,” she repeated. “If I were young again, you see, I should have to give up my darling Adam. I simply could not do that.”

“He is the most fortunate man alive, I think,” the Earl of Kempe said gallantly.

“Indeed he is,” Skye agreed, and she laughed again.

He laughed with her, and when the humor had finally drained away, the earl said, “Are you satisfied that my cousin is an honorable man, madame? Your granddaughter could do no better, I vow.”

“As much as I should like to see Jasmine married, happy and settled once more, she is simply not ready for it, I fear. I
should like to take her to court, but first I will need to quell my son-in-law’s outrage over her existence,” Skye told Tom Ashburne. “Without BrocCairn’s cooperation, it could be quite difficult for Jasmine.”

“And Mistress Sybilla presents a problem also, I would imagine,” the earl said wisely. “The lack of warmth between those two this morning at the high board, each separated by a brother, did not escape me.”

“Sybilla has been spoiled by both her parents. She is not simply jealous of Jasmine. She is afraid as well. You do not know her, Tom. Sybilla is not a girl to turn the other cheek. She strikes back when she feels she is being attacked.”

“A girl with spirit, as I have previously said,” the Earl of Kempe remarked. “ ’Tis just the sort of girl I like.”

“Very well, my lord. Go and get your fingers burned once again,” Skye told him. “Perhaps if the little witch has such a beautiful gentleman as yourself fawning over her, she will feel less hostile to her stepsister Jasmine. Do not say I did not warn you, Tom.”

He laughed, but then quickly grew serious. “And do not say I did not warn you, dear madame. The court is not what it once was.”

“I know,” Skye told him. “Can it ever really be what it once was under Bess? Even I must admit to the truth. When Valentina was at court, it was a sad place. I do not imagine Scots James has enlivened it greatly. I am told he is a man with a dislike of ceremony.”

“He is, madame, but his queen is not. She adores masques, and games, and beautiful clothing. If James will not partake in her frivolity, the rest of the court does. The king loves to hunt. That is his great passion. The queen loves to play, and she plays hard. The court has become a most licentious place. Our good queen Bess would be shocked and disapproving.

“I think both you and the Earl of BrocCairn will not be pleased. Mistress Sybilla is a virgin of gentle breeding. I do not believe the court is a good place for her to take up residence. You would be wise to beware. Mistress Jasmine, however, by virtue of her widowed state, has less to lose as long as her behavior is discreet.”

“We are so isolated here in the country,” Skye said. “My interest in the court died years ago, but now, with a new granddaughter to see to, I know not what else to do, Tom. As for
Sybilla, her interest lies in one direction. She will adhere to a straight path and not deviate from her goal, I promise you.

“Gossip is slow to come to Queen’s Malvern these days,” she continued. “Eventually it does arrive, however, but how much distortion there is in it, I know not. I am told that the king was accompanied by a large group of his countrymen, many of whom are improvident.”

“Aye,” the Earl of Kempe told her. “And the king is quite a sentimental fellow. Do him the smallest kindness, and he wants to reward you with a munificence he can ill afford. Elizabeth’s courtiers are very scornful of him, for poor King James is a fearful fellow. He is afraid of his own shadow, and hence not good with the people.

“To make matters worse, he dislikes the grandeur and magnificence that is necessary to the pageantry of court life. He can barely stay still while indoors, and is only happiest when out hunting. The Scots courtiers, of course, understand him far better than the English courtiers. They are kinder to him in their eagerness to advance themselves, while the English are aloof, believing themselves better than their northern counterparts. The king is not stupid. He knows the English for what they really are.”

“Poor man,” Skye said. “I do not envy him following in Bess’s footsteps. Still, there he is, and so must we be, if but for a little while.”

Chapter 11